


The Joke that Spied Me

by high_way_star



Category: Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975), Monty Python's Flying Circus, Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979), Monty Python's The Meaning of Life (1983)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Other, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/high_way_star/pseuds/high_way_star
Summary: Eric Idle works at a secret agency called Python. Exalted for keeping England safe, Python has good reputation; even knowing John's the head of the company. Eric is always prepared for what imminent dangers lie ahead, but will he be ready for a mission that will change his view on life?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up!!
> 
> This is an AU idea I had. All told in Eric's POV. No weird relationships between the guys happen. Just a simple spy story. This really has no "era" look, but Eric has short hair, and John has a moustache. Anyways, enjoy! :)

"Fuck," I hissed. 

Pain jolted throughout my arm 

I tried to examine the gash, but it was so damn dark out.

I used my rough, calloused hand to trace the area.

Thankfully, I noticed my sleeve was ripped, and my arm was only slashed a little. 

I could feel the cool, sharp air hit the warm blood. 

Not too shocked or surprised. Just a cut. 

Continued on my journey and crawled under the steel, barbed wire fence. 

I took precaution and skulked through the tall, grassy field. 

I clenched my jaw and drew a deep breath. 

Unfortunately, that would've been my last breath.

"Hey, Idle," A voice appeared behind me. 

Suddenly, everything went dark.


	2. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Not used to this format. Forgive me if it's a little choppy).

So, where do I begin?

well, name's Eric. Eric Idle, special agent.

I work for a corporation called Python. 

I work with my boss, Sleazy Cleese (as I like to call him), my best friend, Graham Chapman, and my...sorta "sidekick" Terry Gilliam. 

Now, you're probably wonderin', "Okay, Eric. What the hell does this have to do with anything?" 

Let me fuckin' tell ya. Pretty much, Python has...a rival. 

Palin Incorporation. I know, clever. 

Hah, Palin and Python have been at each other's throat since...Palin got kicked from the force. 

Michael Palin, head honcho, and his partner, Terry Jones, and more have been plottin' to take down the monarchy and destroy the entirety of England. 

As someone who doesn't like authority, I fuckin' don't like the monarchy. 

But to destroy an entire damn country? You must be mad. 

So, it was up to Python to take down Palin. 

Me, Graham, Cleese, an' Gilliam all put our heads together to stop Palin Inc. and to save our country. 

Together, we could stop this malevolent act.

And that's where our story starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I made Michael and Jones the villains. Had to add spice somewhere!


	3. Tempers are Part of the Plan...Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I apologize for any long pauses on chapters. School has been brutal lately)

"Alright, men," Cleese took a long draw from his cigar, "we've got insights to where Palin is headin' to next." 

"I did some tracking down, looked at old receipts, an' such. He seems to be going to...Birmingham," Graham looked at a small notebook he had written shit down in. 

"Good work, Chapman. Gilliam, did you find anythin' on that goon you followed?" Cleese pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. 

"Nothing yet, sir. He might be just another henchman and not anyone one with great value," Terry shrugged. 

Gilliam was new to the team. We recruited him about a few years ago, but he still refers to John as "sir." 

"You were probably too scared to do anythin'," Gray snickered. 

"Hey!" Gilliam crossed his arms. "Not funny." 

"Listen, Sleaze, we gotta do somethin' about stoppin' Palin from potentially destroyin' Birmingham!" I exclaimed. 

"No fuckin' shit, Eric! That's why were plannin' our attack!" Cleese snapped. 

"Look, I don't need your shit. I could take down Palin all by myself if I wanted to," I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, popped it into my mouth, and lit it.

"Are you insane?! You could get yourself killed!" Terry shouted. 

"Hah! You don't say? Wouldn't be the bleedin' first time," I exhaled some smoke. 

"You're so bloody dramatic! Just relax!" Graham replied. 

"Gray, I know what I'm doin'!" 

"Eric, I don't want you getting hurt. The last thing I want is you dying our hands," Terry put a hand on my shoulder. 

I flinched, "Listen, Gilliam, I'm not fucking stupid. I KNOW what I'm doing. Quite frankly, I don't need any of you!"

Sleaze grabbed me by the collar and almost pressed his face against mine.

Cleese slapped my face a few times and bellowed, "I'm sick of your shit, Idle! I know you're chuffed about your attainment of being alive, but it's gettin' on me nerves! YOU are a part of this fuckin' team. YOU are our best spy. You got that? Get your mind somewhere else, an' listen up!"

"YOU DON'T FUCKING TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU HEAR THAT? I DON'T NEED TO LISTEN TO ANYTHIN' YOU SAY TO ME," I felt my blood boil.

"ERIC, I DON'T WANT YOU ENDING UP LIKE PALIN! I WAS THERE WHEN SHIT TURNED AROUND! I SAVED YOUR ASS! YOU WERE NO BLOODY GOOD. LEFT FOR DEAD!" The veins on Cleese's neck were practically bulgin' out of his skin.

Thoughts ran through my head. Some bounced off of each other.

Definitely been a while since Sleaze gave me a good beatin'.

"Yeah...yeah you're right," I grumbled.

I sat back down next to Terry and Graham. Terry looked like he had seen a ghost or somethin'. Gray refused to look me in the eyes.

Terry looked absolutely frightened. The color was drained from his face.

"Exactly. Now, back to business. Do we know exactly where Jones plans on arriving?" Sleaze asked, actin' as if he didn't just scold me a schoolboy.

"According to my research, I found that he plans on going to...the museum?" Graham pointed to a piece of paper. 

"But why?" Gilliam sat back in his seat. 

"Maybe 'cause he wants to steal important documents an' shit," I rolled my eyes. 

"You bastard! You did it!" Cleese pointed at me. 

An' now, everythin's back to normal! Heated arguments don't end up causin' anythin' big.

"All you gotta do is think. You could use that brain once in a while," I smiled. 

"Oh, fuck off," John walked over to Gray's computer.

Graham and Terry chuckled a bit. 

"Right, we need to set up a plan." 

"I'll do it whatever the hell it involves," I put out my cig on an ashtray sittin' on Cleese's desk.

"Eric, you don't even know what you're doin," Cleese stood over by the window. "You jump the gun fast."

"I'll do it fuckin' anyways," I shrugged.

"We'll back you up, Eric," Graham nodded. 

"I dunno about this..." Gilliam's eyes nervously darted around the room. 

"Oh, we'll be fine! You're the one who gotta relax," I chucked.

"Oh shut up!"

"Alright, alright. I'll send Eric out. Graham, make sure you get into the museum's-" Cleese got cut off. 

"Don't worry, John! I got everythin' under control!" Graham jumped up out of his chair.

"What does that leave me with?" Gilliam asked. 

"You're comin' with me," I smirked. "We're about to go on a field trip."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (And that was the first "offical" chapter. I really enjoy writing this fic)


	4. Field Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I keep forgetting this exists. My bad!)

Terry and I went back into the boardroom, discussed our idea, and got into character. 

My name was Owen Smith. 

Gilliam's name was Harry Jacobs. 

Owen Smith grew up in Liverpool, son of Kurtis Smith and Olivia Smith. Has a bachelor's degree in sound engineering. 

Harry Jacobs, son of Theodore Jacobs and Carey Jacobs. Grew up in North Dakota and has a master's degree in foreign literature. 

John handed us our suitcases. We had our guns, earpieces that Graham could talk to us in, and our disguises. 

Terry and I got in a car, I decided to drive, and we were off to the museum. 

"What are we gonna do if we see Jones or Palin?" Terry fixed his fake moustache. 

"We stay calm, an' alert Graham. Graham would already be able to see them anyways," I stated. "Remember, Jones has a distinct hook for a hand."

Terry nodded. He's never actually seen Jones or Palin in person before.

Lucky bastard.

The car ride was fairly quiet. 

We talked about our mission, life, borin' shit. 

Eventually, a few hours later we arrived to the museum. 

As soon as we arrived, it was gettin' close to the museum's closing time. 

I pressed my earpiece, "Graham, come in, Graham." 

"I hear you loud an' clear," Graham replied, "I already got into the cameras. The guards don't expect a thing." 

"Good, Jacobs and Smith out," I took my finger off the earpiece. 

"So what exhibit are we going to?" Terry asked. 

"The military weaponry one, of course," I pushed my sunglasses up. 

Gilliam and I walked inside, and we were already on high alert. 

Our eyes scanned around the hall. The museum was pretty big. 

The main entrance's floor reflected the large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. 

Glorious, golden framed paintings hung on the wall. 

Seats were lined up so people can sit and admire the art. 

"'Kay, military history should be down the hall and to the left," Graham softly spoke. 

I gave a thumbs up to Gilliam, and we walked to where Graham told us to go. 

Whadyaknow? There's our prize! 

We decided to walk around and pretend for be intrested in whatever the fuck was there. 

We had to act like we were admiring a big fuckin' tank, but really, we were on the look out. 

"See anythin'?" I leaned closer to Terry. 

"No, nothing yet." 

Our eyes continued to scan the room.

Suddenly, Graham was in my ear again. 

"Aye, so...there's a man that looks fairly suspicious," Graham's voice was practically drowned out by the sound of typing and clicking. 

"Okay?" 

"It looks like....Jones?" Just by the hint of confusion in Graham's tone, I could tell he was surprised. 

"Fuck..."

"What?" Terry whispered. 

"Jones might be here," I mumbled. 

Terry locked up and nervously paced around. He's not one to be into the sort of conflict I was used to.

"I'd watch out. He's walking down- SHIT! He took out the surveillance cameras. Don't ask me how, but he did!" Graham let out a heavy sigh of frustration.

"Fuckin' bastard," Gilliam rubbed his temples. 

"I can still track him. I know where he's goin'," the clicking came back into my ear.

"God speed, Graham." 

After a few moments of just typing, Graham announced, "Hah! He's downloading files onto a hard drive!" 

"So you think we can stop him right now?" Gilliam questioned.

Gilliam gave me a look that clearly said 'please for the love of GOD say no.'

"No. Cleese said not to interfere," Graham replied. 

Terry chewed on his thumb in relief.

"Fuck 'em. Cleese doesn't know shit," I looked around the room. 

There wasn't anyone in the gallery. The display lights were diming, and the workers were polishing the tanks, missiles, guns, etc. 

Must be closin' time. That's a good and bad thing.

"Eric, as your best friend, just listen to Cleese this one time. I don't want you getting hurt," Graham was always sincere to me. 

Perhaps he pitied me. Maybe even seen me has a brother. 

Whatever it may be, Graham's watchin' out for me. 

"Right, right. So what do we do?" Terry glared at the entrance to the gallery. 

"We-...Jacobs what is it?" I looked back at Terry, and his face was masked by a wave of...fear? Shock? Disgust? 

I tried to pretend to tie my shoe to see what the hell Gilliam was on about. 

To my fair surprise, there was a short, black haired man wearing circular, metal framed glasses standing out in the middle of the hall.

I glared down at his hand and shock coursed through my entire body.

Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I had to give Jones some sort of cliché, so I guess he's Captain Hook now.


	5. Mission Accomplished...Kinda

"Stay calm, Harry," I clenched my teeth. 

No, I wasn't afraid. I don't feel fear. 

Jones must've not seen us, but he put his suitcase down and walked off to some bathroom. 

"That's your cue, Eric. Grab the suitcase and go!" Graham shouted. 

"What's in the suitcase, though?" 

"The hard drive! He has the the important stuff already on him," Graham answered. 

"'Kay," I gingerly walked over to the suitcase. 

I tried not to draw any attention to myself.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins.

That's my favorite part of the mission.

I made eye contact with Terry and picked up the suitcase.

After I had it in my hand, Gilliam and I jogged out of the building. 

He hopped into the car, I started it up, and we got the fuck outta there. 

"Whoo! We fuckin' did it!" I threw off my sunglasses, moustache, and wig. 

Terry did the same, "I can't believe we fucking pulled that off." 

"Congratulations, men. You did it," Graham seemed satisfied. 

I mean, he was probably so stressed trying to pull this shit off. 

When Terry and I came back to Python's HQ, we grabbed the suitcase and ran inside. 

"Guess who fucking did it again!" I announced. 

I felt good. Real good. I was proud. 

Usually, I'm not proud in myself.

We walked into John's office, and he greeted us there. 

"Got the suitcase?" John took a sip of a shot glass filled with gin. 

Doesn't surprise me. He drinks a shit ton. 

"Is Margret Thatcher a bitch?" I laughed and threw the suitcase on the desk. 

Gilliam laughed along, too. 

John carefully opened the suitcase, and there it was, the hard drive. 

Graham kicked the door open and hugged me. 

"Calm down!" I smiled. 

"You fuckin' did it!" Graham jokingly punched Gilliam's arm and my arm. 

"Well, it's only a hard drive, but it's not too important," John shrugged. 

"We saw Jones there! Motherfucker almost spotted us!" Gilliam groaned. 

"Thank fuck he didn't catch you," Graham threw his arm around me. 

Gilliam wasn't too enthusiastic about our mission. He was always the one who got easily scared.

'Course over the next few years, he finally bloody calmed down. 

Despite him bein' older than me, I was always the leader. 

"Gray, take the thing an' plug it into the computer," John finished his shot. 

"Already ahead of ya!" Graham plugged the drive into the computer. 

"I really don't know what to expect, honestly," Gilliam shrugged. 

"Well, be fuckin' proud of yourself. We pulled this shit together," I said. 

"Guess I can do that," Terry pulled his chair up to Graham. 

Graham was typin' away, as usual. 

With a few curses, he finally unlocked the drive 

"I bleedin' fuckin' did it!" Graham threw a fist in the air. 

"Good work! Now, show us what's on the drive," Cleese stated. 

Graham pulled up a file of pictures and documents. 

Jesus. Fucking. CHRIST. 

Thank fuck we got to the drive before Jones grabbed it. 

Thousands and thousands of files flooded the screen.

Some had bold text and others had small scribbles.

"Holy shit," Cleese was in awe himself. 

Graham squinted and read some of the text. 

"Gray, just wear ya damn glasses," I chuckled. 

"No! They make me look like a fuckin' fairy!" 

"Graham...you ARE a fairy..." Cleese laughed. 

"....THAT'S BESIDES THE DAMN POINT," Graham was embarrassed. 

Terry and I burst into laughter. 

Graham pouted and put on his glasses.

"Listen 'ere! If you don't stop laughin', I won't do this," Graham crossed his arms. 

"Oh, Gray. Don't worry. We're just messing with you," Terry snickered. 

"It's all fun 'n games, huh?" Graham rolled his eyes. 

"Oohh, you're no fun anymore!" I smiled. 

Graham relaxed and started to laugh a little. 

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Cleese rounded us back together. 

"Now what do we do with this info?" I asked. 

"We fuckin' keep it safe. The police force 'n such are already alerted," Cleese took a cigar out of a box.

I sat there and thought about somethin' that's been buggin' me. 

Why did Jones leave the suitcase out? A skilled agent would never leave somethin' that important out. 

"Hey....why did Jones leave the suitcase out in the open? Someone of his caliber would never make such a stupid mistake," I think we were fucked over. 

"Right, right, but maybe he knew we was there?" Graham added. 

"He was...baiting us! God, I had a damn feeling," Terry covered his face with his hands. 

"Calm the fuck down! We need to think of why Jones would do this," Cleese lit the cigar and let it hang out of his mouth.

"'Cause we were comin', and he knew. We must've been sloppy or somethin'," I said. 

"Maybe he simply just was tired an' his hook couldn't carry it," Graham shrugged. 

"No, no. He's smart. He knew we were comin'," Cleese exhaled a puff of smoke. 

"So...what's this hard drive then?" Terry pointed to the computer. 

"Must be fake. It has to be. He has the real one," I rubbed my eyes. 

This mission is already tirin' me out. 

"It's not the end of the world. We're goin' to get it back," Graham started to enhance the scans of the documents.

"Well, guess we're gonna have to go to Palin Inc ourselves," I raised an eyebrow. 

"Are you insane?!" Terry slapped my shoulder. 

"You fuckin' bet I am." 

"Eric, this is a fairly tricky idea," Cleese always frowned upon my bold statements. 

Can't fuckin' blame him! 

"I've been through worse. Palin's predictable," I rolled my eyes. 

"You an' Palin had a history-" I stopped Graham before he could say anythin' else. 

"Look, tha's not the idea," I'm never, EVER gonna bring that up again. 

"Right, but we need to focus. I think I can somehow find a way in," Terry rubbed his chin. 

"Oh, you'll chicken out! You were afraid to open a bloody box!" Cleese remarked. 

"It could've been a bomb, and we would've been dead!" 

"Oh, quit it bickerin'! Okay, ya bastards, we need to get a plan mapped out," Graham has such a way with words. 

"We have a limited amount of time," I ran my fingers through my hair. 

"Terry, since you're so good at dressin' up, not sure why, you can go undercover," Cleese's mouth twisted into a smile.

Our mission was just getting started.


	6. Life in the Fast Lane

"Me?! Why not Eric?!" Terry complained. 

"Eric will get spotted. His face is too...recognizable." 

"Tellin' me my face is fucked up, aye Sleaze?" I let out a hardy laugh. 

"You did fuck ya face up pretty bad." 

"It healed, I got a badass scar, an' I look even hotter for the birds," I winked. 

"One, you're such a strange guy, and two, how'd you even get that scar?" Gilliam, the man of many questions. 

"It happened long 'fore you joined Python. I don't wanna talk about it," me, the man of many answers. 

Gilliam nodded. 

"It's settled then, right?" Graham played with the collar of his shirt. 

Chapman never fuckin' dressed up. Ever. 

He's always in jeans an' a button up shirt. 

Usually, that button up shirt is unbuttoned a bit. 

"How am I gonna disguise myself? They're gonna ask why I wanna join, what's my background, etcetera," Gilliam grabbed a shot glass from John. 

Terry often overreacted to...well...a lot of things. As well as overthink things, too.

"Leave it up to Carol. She's the mastermind behind that," I replied. 

"True, she's saved my ass a few times," Terry poured himself some gin. 

"This is gonna take a few days," Graham added, "I hope we'll have time." 

"Oh, we'll fuckin' make time," Cleese yanked his bottle of gin away from Gilliam. 

Gilliam flipped Cleese off, "Sharing is caring, bitch." 

"Stupid American," John mumbled. 

"I'll start preparin'. Gilliam, you're gonna need to make sure ya NEVER and I mean NEVER mention us," I pointed at him. 

"Can do, will do," Terry jokingly saluted me. 

"Oh, piss off," I chuckled. 

Graham laughed. 

I maybe a cynical bitch, but I appreciate my favorite blokes. 

The rest of the day, the guys an' I discussed our plan. 

Sleazey Cleese left early, as usual. 

Terry, Gray, Carol, and I sat around, got crossed about how Cleese left us, and we all had some good laughs. 

Eventually, we all went home. 

I, myself, went to my lil pad. My cozy and comfy home! 

Yeah, I fuckin' wish. 

I stepped into the doorway, an' it reeked of cigarette smoke an' cheap cologne.

Home sweet home. 

I kicked aside piles of laundry and walked in. 

I had to get this place cleaned up at some point. 

I could care fuckin' less. 

Anyways, this was the place I retreated to every once in a while. 

I didn't see the point in cleanin' up. I'm the only one who lives here. 

I threw my work shit on the kitchen table, kicked off my shoes, an' walked over to my bedroom. 

Might as well take a shower to snap me outta this fuckin' daze.

I gathered some clothes. By that I mean a pair of boxers and a plain white t-shirt. 

I went into the bathroom, undressed, spent 'bout an hour in the shower, got out, and threw on the new clothes. 

I investigated my face in the mirror; scrutinizing each little mark.

I traced my index finger along the long scar that went down my forehead and under my left eye.

I remember that day like it was yesterday.

The sharp blade, the blood, the....Michael.

I could've saved him. I could've saved myself. I could've stopped everything from happening.

I clenched my fists, squeezed my eyes shut, and was bombarded by wicked thoughts that flooded my mind.

I shook my head to get rid of these horrid memories.

No use in cryin' over spilled milk.

I sighed and went into the kitchen. 

"Wonder what I could have for dinner," I murmured. 

I scavenged through the cupboards and fridge. 

I found not a damn thing. 

I ended up eatin' soup out of a can. 

Cold soup isn't bad, really. 

Anyways, I finished my meal and laid around the house until I felt tired. 

I went to my bedroom, smoked a cig, and fell asleep. 

Had the same reoccurring nightmare as I do every bloody night. 

PTSD I think? I don't fuckin' know. 

I learned how to deal with it. 

I don't know why it keeps happening, but oh well. 

Palin. Fuckin' Palin. He's the reason why everythin' about me is fucked. 

But I could give a toss. 

I woke up next mornin', threw on some clothes, had a bowl of bland oatmeal while reading the newspaper, and went to work. 

I always get there 'bout 20 minutes early. 

Sleaze Cleese was already there, and I was greeted by him. 

"Aye, Idle! Good mornin'!" Cleese was recoverin' from a hangover. 

I could fuckin' tell. 

"Get bent," I mumbled. 

I went into the boardroom, and made myself a cup of coffee. 

Carol came in about ten minutes later, an' we chatted a bit. 

She already got the plan drawn out, and Terry was gettin' a job at Palin Inc. 

Pretty soon, Terry came strolling in. 

"So how did it go?" I questioned. 

"Well, I got the fucking job if that's what you mean," Gilliam snickered. 

"Oh fuck yeah! Did you tell Cleese?" 

"Yup, motherfucker is being happier than usual," Gilliam scratched his head. 

"That's just him tryna win you over," I took a sip of my coffee. 

"But...why?" 

"He's probably in love with ya, or some stupid shit," I laughed. 

"He does favor you, y'know?" Carol added. 

"Me? John? No way, I'm not a fuckin' pansy," Terry pretended to vomit. 

John took Terry under his wing since the beginning. There was just something about him that was...different. 

But, ever since day one, John and Terry have been close. 

"Oh, don't worry, Terry. We support you!" I gently pushed Gilliam's arm. 

"Oh, fuck off!" Gilliam growled. 

"You favor John, too. I see the way you look at him," Carol said as she got a mug out of the cabinet. 

I moved out of the way, so she could make herself coffee. 

"I am NOT gay!" 

Suddenly, Graham darted into the room and shouted, "THAT'S WHAT I SAID." 

Graham stood next to me and nudged my arm. 

I couldn't stop laughin', and Carol could hardly contain herself. 

Gilliam furrowed his eyebrows, "I like girls and only girls!" 

"Sure, sure whatever ya say," I shrugged. 

"There's always room to experiment!" Graham wagged his finger in the air with a big, cheesy smile on his face. 

Terry rolled his eyes, an' stomped out of the room. 

Carol and I continued to giggle like fucking children, and we talked for a lil. 

After about an hour, it was finally time to put our plan into action. 

Graham attached a tiny camera onto Terry's shirt. 

And Terry was sent off to Palin Inc. 

May luck be on our side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm sorry. Terry gets a little bullied by everyone. But so far, I love writing this)


End file.
